


You By My Side

by twentysomething



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 03:44:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1102008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twentysomething/pseuds/twentysomething
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not that no one touches Sid. Granted, most of it is through layers of pads or a helmet or gloves, but he gets touched. Even off the ice, Duper will bump against him, nudge him with an elbow; Flower will lean close on the plane, let their arms touch, solid and comforting. So maybe it's more accurate to say no one touches Sid like Geno.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You By My Side

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the Hoyden, who inspired, audienced, and betaed this. She is a gem and a champion. This is very loosely set in December, with some allowing for the fact that I wrote it a while ago and since then everyone on the team has been broken. If you need reference for Geno's big hands, [here.](http://25.media.tumblr.com/977f80fa706db448ad8a9f3b678e435e/tumblr_mslviaYVeK1qae0tso1_500.jpg) If you need reference, ah, for something else [ big](http://tinypic.com/view.php?pic=2mzidnd&s=6#.UrthBGRDtq5) who am I to stop you?

It's not that no one touches Sid. Granted, most of it is through layers of pads or a helmet or gloves, but he gets touched. Even off the ice, Duper will bump against him, nudge him with an elbow; Flower will lean close on the plane, let their arms touch, solid and comforting. So maybe it's more accurate to say no one touches Sid like Geno, full body hugs on the ice that make Sid feel weightless and giddy. 

But as good as it is when Geno roars, slamming the glass before opening his arms so Sid can skate into them, Sid's breath still catches when Geno moves him out of the way so he can use the toaster, hands on either side of Sid's hips. It's just for a second, but Geno's hands are huge and warm, and his hold isn't tight, but it's firm and nothing like shy, instead just putting Sid where Geno wants him. 

"Hog," Geno says, low and sly, tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth as he puts in his own bread slices. 

Sid's voice doesn't shake when he laughs, but each "ha" is breathier than the last, trailing off into something that almost sounds like a sigh. 

He tries to figure out what it is, exactly, about how Geno touches him, that makes him feel hyperaware and oversensitive. Geno will take Sid by the elbow to point out the right way to go in the warren of tunnels to the visitor's locker room in Vancouver and Sid will feel the touch long after Geno has let go. He takes an elbow to the cheek at morning skate and at team dinner, Geno tips his chin up and looks at the bruise, just a little purple shadow angled up toward Sid's ear and clucks. 

"You think we all be more careful with Sid's head, now," he says, a little rueful sounding as his finger brushes against the tender skin under Sid's chin as it slips away. 

Sid fights back a shiver, struggling to find something to say that isn't "do that again." 

"Yeah, we should get that full cage again, can't bang up that face," Duper teases. 

Sid's nose automatically wrinkles up in distaste just thinking about that annoying jaw shield, and everyone laughs. But he thinks about that touch later, about Geno just reaching and doing, so casually touching him. 

He can't decide whether he likes that or not -- not the touching, he knows he likes that -- but the way Geno doesn't make a big deal of it. Because on the one hand, it's not a big deal. There's nothing -- everything is platonic. But on the other hand, Sid has been watching, and he doesn't think he's imagining the difference in the way Geno touches Sid and the way he touches Nealsy, for example. He's never seen Geno put a hand at the small of anyone else's back, which he does standing next to Sid in line for a pre-game meal, resting just above Sid's ass, hot even through his sweatshirt. 

It's supposed to be letting Sid know that Geno is reaching around him, sneaking a chicken breast; Geno's thumb rubs against Sid's back before he skips ahead, two stations down before Sid remembers to breathe again. 

It’s easy to put it out of his mind on the ice, but as soon as the post-game interviews are done, he’s preoccupied all over again, going through his cool down routine and showering all on autopilot. He wishes they were long, lingering touches, that he could memorize the way Geno's fingertips feel against his skin, but the next time Geno touches him he just sweeps them over Sid’s cheek, catching on a bristly patch. 

"You miss a spot," Geno says, hair dripping into his eyes, other hand holding his towel up. Sid is brutally aware that there's just two little cotton towels between them, skin still flushed pink from the shower. 

"Thanks," Sid says, reflexively. "I'd better -- better go shave again." 

"Rest good," Geno assures him, knuckles tracing along Sid's jaw. "Go finish." 

"Yeah," Sid says, watching Geno walk away, dropping the towel into the wash pile, and heading off for a pair of boxers. 

Cold water works just as well the second time he steps into the shower.

***

The thing is, Sid has always found Geno attractive. There have been a lot of locker room jokes since Sid was a teenager about him being hockeysexual, which isn't true. But there's no denying that good hockey gets him pretty riled up, and before Sid had even met Geno, he'd seen the KHL footage and, well. But then Geno was in Pittsburgh, tall and deceptively gangly, and so hung he made Sid's mouth water.

Sid's been surrounded by attractive teammates his whole life and it's always been easy to ignore the way they all -- Sid included -- wander around naked, until Geno. He tries not to feel guilty about how frequently Geno stars in his late night fantasies, because thoughts are just thoughts, and Sid doesn't think the Geno he plays with is necessarily anything like the Geno he imagines. 

But now all of those little touches are starting to figure into those late night thoughts, because Sid knows what Geno's hands feel like on his hips, and from there it's all too easy to think they would feel the same way with Sid on his hands and knees, Geno pounding into him from behind. He knows what it feels like when Geno tips his face up with a finger, and it's no stretch at all to imagine Geno touching him just the same way to bring Sid's mouth in line with Geno's cock, to feel Sid's jaw drop as he takes Geno in. 

Sid comes with Geno's name on his lips now, and wonders what it would be like to have Geno's hands all over him.

***

He's filming something -- some canned NHL presser -- after an optional skate, the guys chirping his suit choice as they get back into their lululemon and 412 gear.

"So handsome," Flower says, patting his cheek. "Doing us proud." 

"His suit is so boring," Nealsy sighs. "Haven't you heard of patterns, Sid?" 

"Not everyone has your plaid problem, Real Deal," Duper says, rolling his eyes. 

"Sid," Geno says, and Sid is expecting him to weigh in on the debate, but instead, he holds Sid's face steady, cupping the back of Sid's head. Geno reaches toward him with his other hand and he -- rubs his thumb just under Sid's right eye. 

"Eyelash," he explains.

"Oh," Sid breathes out, helplessly disappointed as Geno's hands move away. 

"You're supposed to keep it, so he can blow it away and make a wish, G," Nealsy says, surprisingly loud in the suddenly quiet locker room. 

Geno stares at Nealsy skeptically. "You weird, Lazy," he says. 

"It's a thing!" Nealsy squawks, and the room fills with noise again, covering for the fact that Sid is still frozen in place, heart beating double time. 

He ends up walking out at the same time as Geno and they step into the bracing winter air, their steps checking for a moment. 

"Cold," Geno says, and even as he makes a face, he sounds a little pleased. 

"For sure," Sid agrees, wishing his wool coat was just a little thicker. 

"Heater in Sid's car is shit," Geno sighs, for some reason unwinding the thick black and yellow scarf he wears to Steelers games from around his neck. "Need to bundle up, not want you to catch cold." 

"I'll be-" Sid starts, but he breaks off as Geno wraps a loop of body-warm wool around Sid's neck. 

"Better," Geno says, and the scarf makes another two loops before Geno pats the ends flat against Sid's chest, seemingly satisfied. 

"Thank you," Sid says, undeniably warmer. 

"Go, I not make you late for interview," Geno says, tugging on the ends of the scarf and tapping Sid on the nose before walking away.

Sid gets in his car and sits blinking behind the wheel of his car for a few seconds before finally putting the key in the ignition. 

"Focus," he reminds himself, his cheeks still burning and his chest still stupidly tight.

***

They get a shutout at home against Toronto and Sid feels comfortably, peacefully good as he goes through the motions of his cool down routine, head down between his arms as he bikes through the ache in his muscles.

He meant to get a haircut last week, but he'd stayed late with Tony working on faceoffs with Siller and he'd missed his appointment. The only other appointment the salon had available had been the night before a game and, well. 

It's neither here nor there, but it means that when his hair is wet, it's curly and unruly, dripping sweat in his eyes. He'll have to get it cut this week, is all. 

When he finally feels ready, his legs rubbery in the best way, he gets off the bike, to find he and Geno are the only two left in the room. 

"You good, there?" Sid asks, a little mesmerized by the way Geno can stretch out those impossibly long limbs of his. He's also stripped out of his Under Armour and is wearing those shorts that leave nothing to Sid's already vivid imagination.

"Almost ready," Geno says, remarkably graceful as he catches hold of his toes and bends into it. He glances up at Sid before frowning slightly and beckoning him closer. 

"What?" Sid asks, bending down. 

Geno reaches up and runs his fingers through Sid's wet hair, pushing it over and back, getting it out of his face. "There," Geno says, an expression of satisfaction on his face. "Better." 

"I need to get a haircut," Sid says, whispering for no good reason. 

"I like long," Geno tells him, his thumb stroking against Sid's temple. 

Sid can hardly help the way his eyes drift shut. "Okay," he sighs. 

"Go shower," Geno says, "We all go out after, yes?" 

Meggy and Sunny had been talking about some bar they'd stumbled into with Bort last week that they wanted to take everyone to, but Sid hadn't really planned on going. "You want to go?" he asks. 

"Come have drink with me," Geno coaxes, pushing more of Sid's hair back from his face. 

"Okay," Sid says again, all other words gone in the face of Geno's hands on him. 

"Go on, I be up soon," Geno promises, letting go and leaning back into a distressingly flexible stretch. 

"Uh huh," Sid mumbles, watching as Geno pulls his legs over his head.

"Go on," Geno repeats himself, sounding amused even through his kneecaps. 

Sid tears himself away and heads to the showers, hoping the flush on his face can be written off as an effect of shower steam.

***

The bar is the type of nice they never seemed to go to when Sid was a rookie -- maybe the kids are classier now, or maybe the establishments are more willing to accept a large group of pro-athletes without asking questions. But the booths are deep and extravagantly padded, and easy to get lost in, tucked away in the corner so the other guys who are going to try to pick up or play pool can get in and out easily. Geno is normally a pool shark, cleaning out rookies as a right of passage, but instead he's pressed all along Sid's side, equally tucked away.

It's a Monday night, so the wait staff are especially attentive, seemingly happy to leave trays of shots on the table, looking like a pie chart of bad decisions, tequila next to whiskey next to vodka in even thirds before the guys get to it. Unsurprisingly, Geno pulls two of the vodka shots off the tray, and Sid sighs and extends his hand before Geno grins at him and takes both.

"Not going to serve you, I had goal and assist, you just goal," Geno says, sly and pleased, before handing Sid a shot of vodka anyway. 

"Do you want me to take this or not?" Sid asks, eyebrows raised. 

Geno laughs, but schools his features into something appearing contrite. "Have to make sure Captain has good time. I know you go home if I not ask," he says. "So take, take."

Sid's not normally a big fan of shots, but it's expedient and doesn't leave him with a headache the next day as often as beer does. So he takes the first and lets Geno talk him into another, and another after that, until he's giddy and overheated, and it seems like a good idea to squirm out of his hoodie. 

He keeps bumping into Geno as he does it, smacking Paulie with a flailing hand as he tries to get out of the sleeve, Paulie accepting an apology with his usual placid good humor. 

"Come here, too dangerous," Geno says, pulling Sid even closer, until they're practically sitting on top of each other. "Paulie already on IR." 

"I said I was sorry," Sid points out, but he's suddenly not -- not if it means Geno solid and welcoming against him, and Sid takes another shot to have something to do to distract him from how good it feels. The arm Geno put along the back of the booth has slipped down to drape over Sid's shoulders, Geno's fingers resting along the swell of Sid's bicep. 

Sid keeps taking shots to distract himself, taking whiskey when they run out of vodka, but it becomes harder to ignore the way Geno's thumb is sort of rubbing along his shoulder and easier to lean in and let Geno bar-whisper into his ear. He's not sure what they look like -- Sid giggling at some story Geno is telling about a bird sanctuary, hand on Geno's chest to help keep him upright, heads nestled together when it becomes too hard to keep them upright -- but he really doesn’t care.

Duper leaves his perch at the bar with Brooksie and walks up to the table; he has his Responsible Dad face on, which is usually a bad sign. It might be because Sid's leg isn't so much on the seat but tucked over Geno's -- he thought he'd crossed his own leg, but apparently it was Geno's. Whoops. 

"Sid, come on, time for us to go," he says in gentle French that Sid is disproportionately pleased he understands. 

"Now?" Sid asks, his voice sounding far away and whiney. Geno's nose rubs along the shell of Sid's ear as he turns to look at Duper and Sid shivers happily. 

"You need to drink a Gatorade hat trick and go to bed," Duper tells him. 

Geno huffs out a laugh, hot and damp against Sid's temple. "Duper need D on his sweater," he says, voice thick and the words are slow, a little indistinct. 

"For _dick_!" Nealsy says, too loudly as he plops down next to Paulie, a pair of beers in hand. 

Duper eyeballs him too, but turns to look at Paulie. "That one's all yours," he says. 

"I think mine's better off than yours," Paulie says, though he takes both of Nealsy's beers, keeping one and handing the other to Tanner. 

"Hey," Nealsy protests, stealing the beer back from Paulie and taking a drink. "I'm great." 

"No," Paulie says firmly, taking the beer back. "That's mine." 

Duper rolls his eyes, turning back to Sid. "Come on, up, Sid," he says. 

"Fine," Sid huffs. There's Paulie and Nealsy and Tanner on his left, but just Geno on the right. And he doesn't need to make Geno get up, he can just slide out, no problem. "No, stay there." He pushes Geno back down and there's just room for him to drag himself over Geno. 

Except there's a table leg or something in the way and Sid says, "ow," reflexively as his knee bumps into it. He needs to take a second to figure out how to get himself around it, and realizes belatedly that he's more or less sitting directly in Geno's lap. 

"Okay?" Geno asks, into his hair, hands coming to steady him at the waist, hot against his skin where SId's t-shirt has ridden up. 

"Yeah, I just gotta-" Sid says, one foot maneuvered around the post, and he pauses because it feels like- 

He squirms for a second, rolling his hips a little. He accidentally falls off Geno, luckily over onto the booth and not toward Paulie, but he glances down at Geno's lap and licks his lips. His leg is still across Geno's knees and all he wants to do is climb back into Geno's lap, unsatisfied with that one little grind against Geno's cock.

"What a lousy lap dance, Sid," Nealsy chirps, laughing hard at his own joke. 

Sid scowls and opens his mouth to defend himself, when Duper takes his arm. 

"Sidney," he says insistently. 

"Okay, okay," Sid grumbles, and at least Tanner is giving Nealsy shit that will probably goad him into giving a lap dance to everyone at the bar. "Night, guys." 

There are vague goodbyes from everyone, but Sid is staring at Geno, who is staring right back, and the look he gives Sid makes him want to get right back into that booth and _beg_. 

"We go this way, my friend," Duper says in French again, ushering Sid out. 

Outside is freezing and a little sobering, which is when Sid remembers his hoodie and coat are still inside. He can't be bothered to go back in though, instead letting Duper fuss and obnoxiously check that Sid is wearing a seatbelt, as if he would ever not. 

"Such a dad," Sid mumbles, eyelids drifting shut as he leans his head against the window. It feels good against his face, and the streetlights flick by overhead. Sid thinks maybe he gets why people drive babies around to get them to sleep, because the motion of the car is soothing and even, lulling Sid into a lazy kind of drowse. 

"If I was your father, we would have left the bar after the fourth shot," Duper says. "I don't know what you were drinking, but you were all over Geno like a loose puck. And I mean _loose_."

Sid frowns, but Duper just keeps going.

"I mean, I have no problem with you trying to get in there," Duper says, which horrifies Sid into turning to look at him. Duper shrugs. "By all means, we've been watching you two dance around each other for years, I just think you might be better served by a little discretion. That sort of thing is better done at home, _hein_?"

Sid can't seem to manage a coherent sentence, which he feels is only a little because of the alcohol. 

"And when neither of you are so drunk that you make James Neal look like a model of sobriety," Duper adds. 

"I'm not that drunk," Sid protests. 

"It's important that you think that," Duper says. 

Sid basically scowls the rest of the way to his house, through Duper mother henning him into drinking a whole bottle of Gatorade, carrying two more and stumbling upstairs into his bedroom. 

"See," he mutters, shucking off his pants. "Not that drunk." 

"Yes, because you usually start undressing in front of me," Duper says dryly. "Well, okay, actually you do -- locker rooms. But you behave yourself now." 

Sid huffs out a breath. "Thanks, Duper," he says grudgingly, just before Duper heads out of the room. 

"Yes, yes, and now I go home to my beautiful wife, and my four children, all of whom combined are less trouble than you," Duper sighs exaggeratedly, waving without looking back. 

The house is so quiet that he can hear the front door close behind Duper as he drinks the second bottle of Gatorade. He still feels too warm, even after throwing off his shirt too, so he throws the comforter to the foot of the bed and lays on top of the sheets, feeling restless. 

His phone buzzes on the nightstand next to the last bottle of Gatorade and Sid's breath catches when he sees it's from Geno. 

_Next time I take u home_

Sid bites his lip, all that restless heat turning right back into arousal, thinking about if Geno had taken him home, about what could have happened. Before he can respond, the phone buzzes again. 

_In bed?_

He's not sure what he should write, because maybe Geno is really just checking in to make sure Sid made it back okay, or if he's asleep. So he just writes, _Yeah at home_

He hardly has to wait half a minute before his phone buzzes again. 

_Lonely_

Sid stares at his phone because -- is Geno saying he's lonely, that Sid must be lonely, or what? He answers neutrally, typing _I’m good_

_Good for me?_

He can't ignore that he's hard, or feeling like he's on display, even though there's no one else in the room. The lights are still on, making it seem even more obvious. He can't help but wonder what being good for Geno might entail, what Geno would want him to do. The hand not holding his phone slips down his stomach, playing with the waistband of his boxers. 

He hesitates for a long moment, but curiosity and imagination only go so far. _What's good?_

_Next time I show u_

Sid groans and his hand slips beneath the elastic to palm his cock. It feels surprisingly good, the relief of touching himself magnified by the fuel for his fantasies on the screen. He thinks about the way Geno has no problem helping himself to all those casual touches and can't help but think about how Geno might handle him. He knows he has a type -- big, athletic guys, which is basically the worst possible type for him to have -- and Geno's huge, sure hands and powerful frame are considerations, true, but Sid knows he was probably doomed the minute he let himself look at Geno's cock. 

He doesn't tease himself, just rides that dizzy buzz of arousal and tipsy heat, and practically fucks up into his own hand. His hips snap up, wishing there was something to anchor him down, to provide resistance, or really -- someone. If Geno were here, he could just hold Sid down and get him off. If Geno were just _here_ , he could -- Sid could -- 

A lazy, messy clean up later, he feels strangely unsatisfied and almost annoyed, even though his body is practically liquid with post-orgasmic relaxation. He keeps staring at his phone screen, wishing it were next time already. Four attempts at a response later, Sid still can't find the words and, increasingly frustrated, he just takes a picture and hits send without stopping to reconsider. 

He manages to open it up and look at it, and it's just his shoulder, the sheets, and most of his mouth. It's completely useless and he means to take another, but some time between that decision and his alarm blaring in his face, he must have fallen asleep. His phone is uncomfortably wedged under his cheekbone and awkwardly squished into the mattress. 

There's a minute of slow, bleary confusion, because his phone is always on his bedside table, not in the bed, until memories of the previous night reassert themselves aggressively. 

Immediately awake, Sid unlocks it, finally turning off the alarm, and it immediately opens to his texts with Geno, each message as he scrolls up unbelievably suggestive. The picture is the worst, just -- incriminating is the only word coming to Sid's mind. What he'd thought was an off-kilter shot looks like purposefully staged provocation. He's shirtless, clearly in bed, mouth open like he's panting for it, which, maybe he is, but at no point had he ever planned on letting Geno know that. 

There's no response, which could mean anything -- that Geno's not up yet, that he's ignoring it politely, that Geno never got it, _anything_ \-- and Sid convinces himself the entire conversation is both totally innocent and totally obvious again and again. He takes a shower to distract himself so he doesn't just sit there staring at his phone and pointedly ignores his problematic dick. 

Of course, he checks his phone the second he's out of the shower, and there on the lock screen is a text from Geno: _U sleep good? I did ))))))_

He stands in the middle of the bathroom, dripping water all over the floor, trying to figure out what the fuck it _means_ for a good fifteen to twenty seconds.

 _You still have to show me good_ Sidney sends before he can think better of it. 

He stares at the screen anxiously, trying to think of a way to pass it off as an autocorrect disaster, when it buzzes in his hand. 

_Whenever u want_

Sid can feel his face heat, thinking about Geno touching him whenever he wants, however he wants. Clearly, he needs to get better at distracting himself.

***

It's easy to focus on the ice. Dan helps by running drills and putting them through grueling shorthanded rush scenarios. He's dripping sweat and his lungs are screaming and Sid feels better than he has in days. He sends one over Flower's shoulder on the first attempt during the shootout drill, Flower cursing him out solidly and loudly in French as Sid skates off.

But all of Sid's hard-earned calm disappears when Geno skates by him. "Look good," Geno says with a wink, tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth.

Geno wrists one in, just squeaking in five hole and Sid's mouth goes dry as the guys holler appreciatively. 

"Now you've made him angry," Nealsy whines as he sets up for his run, and Flower does, in fact, deny him viciously. 

Geno grins, doing a lazy loop of the guys still on the ice before coming just short of bumping into Sid. 

"You like?" he asks, gesturing toward the net. 

"Yeah," Sid says, hoping Geno will think he's out of breath from drills. 

Geno looks extremely smug and Sid tries to pretend he doesn't find it extremely attractive. He's not sure if he succeeds, but the clang of the post and a round of groans is good cover for him to turn back to the drill, Geno still shoulder to shoulder with him. 

Neither of them move an inch the rest of the drill until there's a new mustache boy. Simon takes it with good grace, even as the chirping starts. Geno nudges Sid with an elbow, leaning down to whisper. 

"Glad you get rid of November mustache," he says, as Duper talks shit about a Fu Manchu. 

"It was for men's health awareness," Sid sighs out automatically. Taylor had complained about being too grossed out to watch games the whole month. 

"No one want to kiss mustache," Geno points out, raising his eyebrows and before Sid can say anything or even close his mouth, he grins even wider and skates off.

***

If Sid had thought Geno touched him a lot before, he had no idea how much Geno apparently wanted to touch him and had been holding back. Between the end of practice, the trip to the airport, and getting on the plane, there are dozens of little touches and even more looks, amused but heavy and promising.

He's been thinking _maybe_ and _if_ , but there's a tension in the air that feels like _when_. Geno walks up behind him while Sid is putting his bag in the overhead compartment, being sure to bring them flush as he does so. For a moment, Geno is completely pressed against Sid's back, holding his hips firmly, fingers proprietarily low and tight. 

"In the way," Geno whispers, deferring to the quiet of the dim cabin. "Rude." 

"Sorry," Sid says on autopilot, trying not to melt back into Geno. 

"Good thing you such a nice speed bump," Geno says. He squeezes quickly, fingertips resting in the cut of Sid's hips before he lets go and keeps heading up, apparently to talk to Kadar. Sid sits down only to realize he never actually put his bag away. 

He stands up again, and as soon as it's stowed away he looks down to find Flower eyeballing him judgily. 

"I know you missed sex ed because you went to the Q instead of high school, but I hope you're using protection," he says.

Sid sputters, because at least Flower said it in French, so the entire plane didn't hear, but he immediately turns to see Duper giving him a horrifyingly fake concerned look. 

"I can give you the Talk," he offers. "I already told Maeva that if a boy looks at her for longer than fifteen consecutive seconds to hit first and ask questions later." 

"It's not like that," Sid hisses back just in time to see Geno headed their way again. "Shut up!" 

Geno's eyebrows are raised, but before he can say anything, Duper jerks a thumb toward the back of the plane. 

"Keep moving," Duper says firmly. "Hands to yourself." 

"Oh my god," Sid groans, putting his face in his hands. 

He can hear Geno laugh a little. "Busted?" Geno asks. 

"Save it for the hotel," Flower advises while Sid is busy dying of mortification. 

"Yeah, yeah," Geno says, one warm hand resting on Sid's shoulder for a moment as he passes by. 

"Hands!" Duper calls after him, only to be elbowed by Joey V. 

"Sleeping," Joe says, annoyed sounding. And no one is willing to cross a cranky Vitale, not even Duper, and thankfully conversation ends, even if there is the unspoken promise of an earful later. 

He's grateful for the short flight to New York, which means he only has to deal with another 30 minutes or so of Flower and Duper staring right at him.

***

When they get on the bus to the hotel, they're warned there's some hideous traffic snarl caused by an accident in the tunnel, so Sid puts on his eye mask and does his best to fall asleep. He must actually succeed, because the next thing he knows, someone is gently shaking him awake.

"Sid," Geno says softly. 

Sid hums and shoves the mask up, blinking at Geno, who is sitting on the arm of the chair with his knees out in the aisle. There are still some people shuffling off in the front, but almost everyone else has gotten off already.

"Sleepyhead," Geno says, warm and sweet. "Time to go." 

"I'm getting up," Sid mumbles, glancing around to make sure he didn't misplace his phone or anything. Geno already has Sid's bag slung over his shoulder and Sid is disproportionately touched by the gesture. 

Geno tsks and leans in close. Sid can't help but hold his breath, but Geno reaches for his collar, straightening Sid's tie, brushing the lapels down flat, fingers trailing down Sid's shirtfront. 

"There," he says, sounding satisfied. "Ready now." 

"Thank you," Sid says quietly, trying to hold on to the sleepy peace he feels, not ready to head out into the bustle of the city just yet. 

"Sid need someone to take care of him, I think," Geno says. "Otherwise you sleep on bus all night." 

"You gonna take care of me?" Sid asks, and he doesn't mean for it to sound so -- _well_. 

Geno tips Sid's chin up. "Yes," he says simply. Sid wants to be kissed so badly that his whole body seems to ache with it, but Geno just stands up and gently escorts Sid off the bus, a guiding hand at the small of his back. 

Their rooms are only three doors apart, so Geno walks him all the way up, but before Sid can say anything, Tanger and Duper drag Geno down the hall.

"Have a good nap, Sid!" Duper yells. 

He thinks about going after them, but the door opens on Flower and maybe he should just leave them to it.

***

Sid has no idea what happened while he napped, but Geno sits next to him at team dinner with his chair close enough that their knees keep brushing under the table with no protests from any French Canadians, so it must have turned out okay.

Well, for a given value of okay, which is to say, actively driving Sid to distraction. 

While a couple of the guys are getting coffee and dessert, Geno puts his arm along the back of Sid's chair as he laughs at a story Sunny is telling about buying Bort underwear. Bort seems resigned to the whole thing, but that's pretty much how he always looks. Sid might feel more sympathetic, but most of his brain is occupied by Geno's hand resting possessively on his shoulder. 

"Tired?" Geno asks solicitously. "Can go to hotel now." 

"No, I'm fine," Sid says, the protest a conditioned reflex at this point. Geno nods and Sid could kick himself, because now all he can think about is what would have happened if he'd said yes. 

It's probably for the best; as much as he wants Geno -- desperately -- and as much as those feelings might be mutual -- he hopes so -- a hotel room in New York the night before a game isn't the right place to do anything, let alone throw himself at a teammate. So he's careful to make sure they're not alone, making Olli get in their cab and taking the elevator up with Juicy and Sutsy, even if Geno practically has an arm around him the rest of the night. 

And as resolved as he is to put some necessary brakes on... whatever this is, he can't help but be a little upset that Geno doesn't even try to invite himself in to Sid’s room. 

It must show on his face, because Geno shrugs and says, "Sulky. I not make rules. Good night, Sid." 

Sid's brushing his teeth, thinking about what rule Geno could have possibly meant when it hits him. 

It's not a rule. It's _not_ , but Sid just doesn't hook up the night before a game. He never has but that doesn't mean he _couldn't_. 

He tells himself Geno probably meant something else, anyway.

***

It must have been for the best, because they just barely eke by, a lucky power play at the end of the third to break the 1-1 tie and put them up -- Craig slaps at Lundqvist's pads until the puck just crosses the goal line. But a goal doesn't have to be pretty to be a game winner and Sid will take two points however they come. It's their third win in a row and Geno is still touching him like he's something precious and dear, which makes the late flight back to Pittsburgh and the morning skate Sid knows is only hours away seem like nothing at all.

He wakes up feeling strangely energetic just the right amount of time before his alarm that it feels productive and not annoying. But he's still ready too early -- not enough time for any errands or really much of anything. Sid pours himself a cup of coffee and tries to appreciate being able to leisurely sip at it, but he feels fidgety all of a sudden and he pulls out his phone out, figuring there'll be something he can distract himself with. 

He sends Taylor a text, wishing her good morning but not wanting to wake her up, only to remember the last person he texted was Geno. He can't help but wonder if Geno -- hardly a morning person at the best of times -- is just waking up now, or if he's in the shower already, or just getting dressed. 

Rather than think about Geno in the context of bed, shower, or being half-naked, he impulsively sends a text: _Hey you want a ride to the rink?_

_))))))))))))_

Sid stares at his phone. _Is that a yes?_

_Always yes sid_

It gets him moving, because if he's going to get Geno, it doesn't take him out of his way, but it's not on his usual route either, so he has to leave in a few minutes. He has just enough time to fill a travel mug with Geno's preferred hellaciously sweet coffee and to find a thick toque before heading out into the garage. 

The drive is familiar and easy, even for Sid, directionally challenged as he can admit he is. He pulls up in Geno's driveway, but before he can text, Geno comes shuffling out, wearing a Steelers hoodie under his coat and swearing at the bitterly cold wind. 

"Morning," he says, as soon as he's in the car. "Thank you." He's still obviously not firing on all cylinders yet, rubbing at his eyes and blinking at the dashboard. 

Sid turns down NPR to a quiet background hum and starts driving. "There's coffee for you, too," he says. 

"Sid _best_ ," Geno says fervently and Sid can't help but be pleased. Geno takes a long sip, probably burning his tongue, but he just sighs happily. 

"Did I get it right?" Sid asks, even though he's pretty confident that the key to all of Geno's beverages is put the nearest sweet thing in until it won't dissolve. 

" _Best_ " Geno croons at him. "You spoil me." 

Sid can feel his cheeks flush a little for no good reason. "You would do the same for me," he says, letting his eyes flick over to Geno for a second. "If you could get up."

"For Sid, I get up," Geno says. There's nothing _wrong_ about it, or even that provocative -- Geno certainly makes it sound so innocent -- but Sid manages to choke on air anyway. 

He wonders if they're finally going to talk, but Geno seems content to drink his coffee and watch Pittsburgh pass by out the window. Morning skate goes well, and he has a great conversation with Dan toward the end that makes him feel really prepared for the game that night. He's so preoccupied thinking about the Wild's PK that he jumps a little when Geno drops a hand over the top of his head. 

"You take me home?" Geno asks, almost massaging Sid's scalp. 

"Mmmm," Sid hums. The warm weight of Geno's hand feels unbelievably good and Sid wonders if there's a way to ask him not to stop. 

"Or too sleepy to drive now?" Geno asks, fingers catching just a little in the still slightly damp wave of Sid's hair. 

Sid can feel his lids drooping lower. "I want to take you home," he mumbles. 

Geno huffs a little laugh. "Sid like cat," he says. "Purr?" 

"I'm not a cat," Sid sighs out. He's more of a dog person, if he's being totally honest.

"Just like cat," Geno says. "Beautiful, picky."

"I'm not picky," Sid insists, nose wrinkling automatically. 

"Beautiful, though," Geno insists, dragging his hand down to cup the back of Sid's head. Sid can't help but tip his head back to sway into it. 

"And little bit picky," Geno adds, and when Sid just barely cracks his eyes open in annoyance, Geno's tongue is poking out, his signature teasing face. "Come on." 

Geno ushers Sid out of Southpointe with a hand proprietary and low in the small of Sid's back. It's not the first time Geno has done that, just herded Sid where he wanted him, but it's maybe the first time Sid has really thought about how much he likes it. He likes how warm Geno's hands always seem to be, the gentle pressure, as if, with that one gesture, he's saying, "I'm here, right beside you." 

The ride is quiet and companionable and when they pull up to Geno's house, Sid can see Jeffrey barking from inside the house, tail wagging excitedly. 

"Thanks for ride," Geno says, patting Sid's knee, tapping twice, his hand laying flat over Sid's pants after. "And coffee." Geno squeezes gently, hand spanning even over Sid's thigh. 

Sid's mouth is suddenly dry with the thought of those hands all over his body. "Yeah," he breathes out. "Any time." 

Geno smiles slyly. "Careful," he says. "I want Sid to come every morning then."

He must be saying these things on purpose, just to make Sid crazy, and he'd be lying if he said it didn't work. "I'll come whenever you want," Sid says, suddenly desperate to get a reaction from Geno, to be sure it's not just him. 

Geno's hand grips again at Sid's thigh, seemingly reflexively. "I always want," Geno says, eyes dark and fixed on Sid's mouth.

"Well, then," Sid sighs, wishing he could follow Geno inside. There's no sense in starting anything he can't finish, though, no matter how much he wants to. "Jeffrey is waiting for you."

Geno blinks at him, but leans back and Sid hears him grumble, " _I_ waiting for you," under his breath as he unbuckles his seatbelt and opens the door.

"I'll see you at the rink," Sid says, adjusting his mirrors slightly so he doesn’t pull Geno in and kiss every complaint off his lips. 

"Hey," Geno says, leaning back into the car and putting a finger under Sid's chin to tilt his face up to look at him. "Have good nap." 

"I will," Sid says, the pad of Geno's finger soft against the stubble. "You too." 

Geno hums noncommittally. "Would be better with company," he says, before stepping back and closing the car door behind him. Sid stares after him, but Geno just waves a hand without looking back. 

Sid thinks about how unfair that was of Geno the whole way home, and by the time he's eaten lunch and is ready for his nap, he's not sure which he wants more: Geno wrapped around him, holding him close, the weight of his body anchoring Sid to the bed, curled together in sleep, or Geno wrapped around him for a totally different reason, maybe his hand slipping beneath the waistband of Sid's pants and getting him off quick, no teasing, confident and sure. Fuck, he wants both. 

That he's even considering the idea is revolutionary and daunting -- he hardly ever gets off before a game, only if he's having real trouble taking his pre-game nap. He's never wanted someone like this before. There have been casual, friendly hookups and even a few more longer-term things he's tried over the summer, but this constant, skin-tingling _wanting_ is new. 

And he wishes he could say it was just needing to get fucked, or even just that he wants Geno to do it, but as badly as he wants all of the physical stuff, there's a bone-deep longing behind it that applies to all of Geno. Not just the touching, but all the goofy smiles, the thoughtful gestures, the easy companionship Sid feels with him, just... with a little bit more.

Well, not a _little_ bit.

***

He's going about his regular routine, each little cog falling neatly into place: the comforting scrape of the knife against the toasted bread, peanut butter spread thickly, the jam sweet and familiar. The first bite feels like comfort and years of games stretching out behind and ahead.

Sid dusts his fingers off over the sink, crumbs falling into the basin, and washes them clean happily. 

"You put jelly away?" Geno asks, back over by the toaster, bread and butter out on the counter. 

"Oh, yeah, sorry," Sid apologizes, turning to help Geno. 

Geno glances at Sid and smiles, looking amused. "Left some out anyway," Geno says, and as soon as Sid is within arm's reach he reaches out and brushes his thumb over Sid's lower lip. It catches, just a little, sticky and tacky. 

There's a red smudge of jelly on Geno's finger, and he licks it off, tongue curling around his thumb before slipping it into his mouth in a filthy slide. It slips back out with an obscene popping sound. "Sweet," Geno says, licking his lips. 

Sid can't help but lick his own lips in response, a little whimpering sigh sneaking out, tongue catching a hint of the same taste now in Geno's mouth. 

"Yo, G, you're needed for two-touch," Nealsy says, poking his head in the door. "They won't let me play until you do. Duper's being a dick, said you had to ‘balance it out,’ before he said a bunch of stuff in French which I bet was dick stuff too."

"Snack first," Geno says, sounding annoyed, barely glancing at Nealsy. 

Nealsy sighs exaggeratedly and rolls his eyes, making a "wrap it up" motion. "C'mon, then!" 

Geno slaps together his toast, gives Sid a look that is beyond incendiary and takes it out in the hallway. Nealsy's muffled, "ouch! what was that for?" echoes back into the room. 

Sid takes a deep breath, still tasting sweet strawberry in his mouth. He doesn't really see Geno alone again until they're doing their handshake, Geno bumping their helmets together affectionately. 

"Now who's the cat?" Sid teases, turning away to head down the hall. 

He doesn't think he imagines that Geno swats extra hard at his ass as he goes.

***

The game is pretty back and forth in the first, lots of chances on either end -- Geno eats post a few times, and there are some frankly miraculous saves by Harding. A puck squeaks under Tishy's pad, but within seconds Olli fires it in practically from the blue line and they're tied. Dan has some words to say at intermission, and everyone must take it to heart, because Minnesota hardly gets a shot off in the second, and Geno scores two beautiful goals that have Sid practically squirming on the bench to get to the ice.

They just seem to pull away from that point, Kuni scoring on the power play and Sid himself gets an empty netter in the last two seconds of the game, final score 5-1. The press seems pretty content with a minimum of discussion -- in the holiday season, everyone seems more eager to go as soon as the game is over, and the closer they get to Christmas, the fewer questions everyone seems to have. 

It seems to be true around the team too, because even getting done earlier than he usually does, the locker room is emptying out at a speedy pace, everyone eager to get their day off started, it seems.

He heads into the gym to find it empty of everyone except Geno, who is bent into some incredible pretzel-like shape, muscles tensed until he releases the pose and impossibly straightens back out into a configuration of limbs Sid understands. 

"Hey," Geno says, tilting his neck until it cracks in both directions. "All done?" 

"Yeah, just gotta cool down," Sid says and wonders if Geno is just asking to be polite or if he wants to know for... any other reason. "That looked really difficult." 

Geno shrugs. "First time you try, easiest to have help, give resistance," he says. "You try?" 

It's on the tip of Sid's tongue to accept, but he pauses instead. "Give me a few?" he asks.

Geno nods. "No hurry," he says. 

Sid does about ten minutes on the bike, eyes glued on Geno working his way through an intense set of stretches that highlight how long Geno's limbs are and how gracefully he can move them. 

"I have to stretch out a little first," Sid warns Geno. 

Geno pats the mat invitingly. "Sid need to work on flexible," he says, tongue between his teeth, chirping away. 

"I'll show you how flexible I am," Sid huffs out, going through most of his off-ice stretch routine. 

There's a considering noise from above him as he's bringing his knees up across his body and over, Geno looking as if he's deciding whether or not to say something. 

"Yeah?" Sid prompts. 

"You mind?" Geno asks, putting a hand over Sid's knee and pushing it further over, turning the stretch from effective to satisfying. 

"No, you -- you go right ahead," Sid manages to say as Geno's other hand comes to hold his hip down. 

"Good?" Geno asks, releasing just before it would have started to ache. 

"Uh huh," Sid groans, and Geno's hand stays on his knee all through the range of motion, coming to rest against the mat. 

"More," Geno insists, hand pressing down on his inner thigh, forcing it against the mat. It feels way too good, and Sid can feel his cock twitch slightly. His breath is coming shallow and fast, the base of Geno's palm only inches away from where Sid really wants it. 

"Other side," Geno prompts him, bringing one knee in only to bring the other across, providing direct pressure on Sid's cock, and his hips rock up greedily. Sid feels his face flush, because Geno must have noticed by now, since his hand is braced against Sid's hip. And even if he hadn't noticed then, Sid’s Under Armour doesn't leave anything to the imagination when Geno brings his knee to rest flat out.

Geno is far from subtle about where his attention is, as his thumb strokes toward the obvious bulge in the leggings, tracing over the seam. 

Sid pushes himself up on his elbows, about to say something when Geno's other hand moves from Sid's hip to the other thigh, pressing them both open, and Sid tries to bite back a moan, but it comes out as a strangled version of Geno's name. Geno scoots up to kneel between Sid's thighs and Sid can see where Geno is even harder than Sid is. If Sid had thought Geno was huge before, he had _no idea_ ; the slinky little basketball shorts Geno usually wears do nothing to disguise just how big his cock is and Sid is can't wait another second longer. 

Sid reaches up to pull Geno in by his t-shirt, kissing him open and wet. Geno kisses just like Sid always imagined, fucking his tongue into Sid's mouth until Sid shivers. His hands slide up from Sid's thighs, deliberately avoiding Sid's cock, palms pressing into sensitive, ticklish skin where hip meets thigh, up over his stomach to his chest, then stretching out, elbows resting on either side of Sid's head, hands tangling into Sid's hair, letting Sid take almost all his weight. 

"So good," Geno breathes out, the sound almost lost between their mouths, and Sid wraps his leg around Geno's waist so he can grind up against Geno. 

Geno groans and noses under Sid's jaw to bite down along the muscle there. Sid is about to do _something_ when a door slams a few rooms away, loud enough to startle. 

"Oh, god," Sid says, covering his eyes with a hand. He can't believe he was basically willing to get off on a practice mat in the _gym_. "I just -- we can't do this here. We need -- a house. My house?" 

"Closer," Geno says, sounding like he agrees, even if he rolls them so Sid is on top, getting a handful of Sid's ass before kissing him thoroughly again. 

"We have to shower," Sid reminds him between kisses, even if he really wants to just keep rubbing their perfectly aligned cocks together until he comes. Geno squeezes Sid's ass hard and Sid nearly loses it. "Geno!" 

"For the road," Geno says, taking a last kiss before letting Sid go. 

Sid scrambles up and it takes a _lot_ of self-discipline to look down at Geno, mouth red and swollen, t-shirt rucked up, and cock tenting his shorts, and not just get right back down on the mat. 

He practically dashes out of the room, calling out “My house!” behind him. Sid figures the only safe thing to do is ignore Geno completely, even if he can hear the other shower going, or the clack of Geno's hanger against the side of his stall. Sid pulls on his suit as quickly as possible, already thinking about Geno taking it off him again. 

The drive is torturous, even though there's no traffic, and Sid sees no sign of Geno's car on the road. Which is probably because when Sid pulls into his driveway, Geno's car is already parked there and Sid can't even imagine the traffic laws Geno probably bent getting there before him. 

"Geno?" Sid calls, opening the door from the garage. 

Geno meets him in the doorway of the living room, tugging him in and shoving off Sid's jacket, his own jacket already thrown over an armchair, his tie half over the arm, cuffs and collar undone. "You still want?" he asks, and in lieu of responding Sid kisses him as encouragingly as he can, immediately parting his lips to deepen it. 

"Yes, I -- I want you so bad," Sid says, when Geno gets distracted taking off Sid's tie. "Geno, can I -- I want to blow you, can I?" 

He gets a fairly incredulous look in return. "Yes, Sid," Geno says. "Whatever you want, I give to you, I do for you." 

Sid's chest clenches tight and all he can do is let Geno undress him as he babbles out all the poorly hidden desires that have grown in him. "I want you so much; God, I like you so much. You've been making me _crazy_ ," Sid confesses. 

Geno sucks in a surprised breath, fingers pausing on Sid's belt. "I want you _most _," he says. "Tried to be patient, go slow."__

__"I don't want slow," Sid says, almost a whine. "You -- you've been _touching_ me, I didn't -- I hoped you wanted me. I wanted it to mean something so badly." _ _

__"It mean everything to me," Geno says fervently. "All I want, you here with me."_ _

__Sid has to kiss Geno then, fingers stealing into his hair, desperate for every little scrap of attention, affection. Geno just gives and gives, sucking gently on Sid's lower lip, his teeth scraping along the delicate skin. His arms wrap around Sid tightly, dragging him along until they bump into the couch._ _

__They manage to get down to boxers before they actually fall onto it, Geno's thigh between Sid's legs, perfect to rock against. Geno kisses him until Sid is dizzy with how bad he wants Geno, and he's thought so much about getting his mouth around Geno's cock that he needs to know what it's really like before he does anything else._ _

__"I -- please, just -- let me," Sid gasps out, sliding down the couch and tucking his fingers into the waistband of Geno's boxers and pulling._ _

__"Yes," Geno sighs. "Your mouth, Sid."_ _

__Geno's cock is thick and hard, precome leaking out the slit when Sid wraps a hand around it, thumb pressing just under the head. Sid glances up at Geno, whose mouth is hanging open as he stares intently back at Sid, and takes Geno's cock into his mouth. Sid has gotten shit about his mouth his whole life, and has always considered how good he is at giving head the perfect rebuttal. He takes Geno in deep, lips bumping against his hand sliding up and down at the base._ _

__All Sid can hear is Geno's breath coming in harsh pants, all he can smell is clean skin and sex, and it's so good he can hardly stand it, but he needs Geno to touch him. He urges Geno's hand from the couch cushion to his head. He likes some careful hair tugging, but instead of going the obvious route, Geno rubs his thumb along Sid's hollowed out cheek, the other coming up to cup his jaw, thumb resting at the corner of Sid's mouth. He's maybe the most considerate recipient of a blowjob Sid has ever had, hips extremely still, letting Sid set the pace and control how much he takes in, which, with a cock like Geno's, is appreciated._ _

__Geno starts swearing low in Russian as Sid's tongue flutters along the vein, swirls around the head, and it's so fucking hot Sid can't stand it. It's not -- he should let Geno come, but --_ _

__He slides his mouth off Geno's cock and pulls in a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I -- I'll -- next time, I want you to come in my mouth, I want it so -- but I just," Sid stumbles over the words. "I need you to fuck me, I need you to fuck me right now, _please_ , Geno, will -- will you? I want it so badly." He's never found that any good comes of not explicitly asking for what you want and Sid wants Geno to fuck him hard so much he can hardly breathe. _ _

__Geno's jaw is clenched tightly and he mutters to himself for a moment before he says, "Almost come on your face, give me minute."_ _

__Sid feels like his heart skips a beat, feeling off-center and too hot. "If you -- later," he promises, thinking of Geno's come all over his lips, chin, and cheeks, thinks of running his fingers through it and licking them clean._ _

__Geno groans, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes. "Killing me. Can't fuck if you keep talk like that," he says._ _

__Sid nearly whimpers with relief. "God, we need to get upstairs," he says._ _

__"Can't move," Geno mutters. "You break me."_ _

__"The lube is upstairs," Sid points out. "And we're gonna need a lot of it. Your cock is huge and I haven't been fucked in forever. I mean, I could finger myself and come back downstairs-"_ _

__He can't finish the thought because Geno pulls him down to give Sid the filthiest, wettest kiss of his life. "Don't dare. Selfish, not let me do," he says, nipping at Sid's earlobe after._ _

__Sid thinks about Geno's big, long fingers and can't hold in a sigh. "Then let's _go_ ," he says. _ _

__They get distracted on the stairs for a little while and Sid loses his boxers in the hall, walking out of them into the bedroom, only to lose Geno, who is stuck still, staring._ _

__"It's not like you haven't seen it before," Sid says, suddenly and strangely shy._ _

__"Different, Sid in locker room," Geno explains. "Here, all for me, I get to touch."_ _

__"Well, _touch_ then," Sid says, body keyed up from what feels like weeks of teasing foreplay. _ _

__"Too many choices," Geno says, gathering Sid up in his arms and crowding him up against the bed. "Hands and knees? On back, get to see your face, favorite for me. What you want?"_ _

__"God, whatever you want, I just -- I need you in me," Sid gasps out as Geno rubs a finger against his nipple._ _

__"So good, knew you would be," Geno practically purrs. He arranges Sid on the bed, pillow under his hips, feet splayed out over the bed. He kisses his way down and over Sid's body, seemingly anywhere that catches his eye -- the point of Sid's chin, along his collarbone, at the base of his throat, just to the right of his nipple, his abs. They drift lower and lower, the vulnerable skin along the hip bone following the crease of his thigh, before kissing where his hands had been all over earlier, the inner thigh of his right leg._ _

__"Get me lube?" he asks, sweet and innocent, like he's asking for Sid to pass the salt. He punctuates it with a delicate bite, just grazing the skin, and Sid gasps._ _

__Sid scrabbles for the bedside drawer, luckily within arm's reach, hardly able to focus with the way Geno is exploring the stretch of skin there, kissing and biting and sucking. Geno shifts a little lower, somewhere between thigh and ass, and none of it will probably even leave a mark, but each little movement feels like so much more. Finally, there's the lube and a condom, and Sid slaps them down on the bed hurriedly._ _

__"Thank you," Geno says against the skin, vibrating along Sid's nerve endings. He lubes up with an ease that suggests experience, as does the way he teases at Sid's hole, just tracing around the muscle and not pushing in at all yet._ _

__"I -- you can't tease me like this," Sid grits out as Geno's thumb rubs hard over his hole._ _

__"No?" Geno asks softly, hand stilling completely._ _

__"Not -- I -- not tonight," Sid says. "Any other night, I'll let you, but now, I need it, I need you." The desperate ache in the pit of his stomach is back, all the worse for how close he is to what he really wants._ _

__"Okay," Geno says and finally slips a finger in, and it's slow and steady but still not enough. "Tonight, for Sid, no tease. But sometime, I take my time, yes? Make you come so hard."_ _

__"You don't have to -- to go slow to make me come hard," Sid stammers out. "I like it fast."_ _

__Geno appears to consider this for a second. "So, fast for you. We go slow for me, see which you like better, next time," Geno says. He does speed up, though, his finger pumping in and out at almost exactly the right speed, but it's nowhere near enough._ _

__"Faster," Sid moans. "More."_ _

__"Ready for two?" Geno asks dubiously._ _

__"Yes," Sid whines._ _

__Despite any vocal hesitance, Geno gives him two fingers, only to take them out a second later. Sid nearly yelps, surprised and displeased._ _

__"More lube," Geno explains, fingers back and more slick. "You say so."_ _

__"What do I know, just -- God!" Sid breaks off mid-sentence when Geno's fingers push along his prostate. "There, fuck, there!"_ _

__"You want lube?" Geno asks curiously, relentlessly pushing in just right again and again._ _

__"I -- yes -- no?" Sid says, not sure what he's saying at all anymore. "Three, give me three, right there, Geno!"_ _

__Geno's fingers are too good, and Sid grips his cock tightly at the base to stop himself from coming when Geno fucks him hard and fast with three fingers, so wet with lube that Sid can feel it dripping down his ass._ _

__"Please, now," Sid gasps out. "Fuck me, please."_ _

__"Condom," Geno says, playing with Sid's rim._ _

__Sid thinks crazily for a second to just tell Geno to go for it bare, thinking about slick come in his ass, but instead he slaps around on the bed until he feels the foil under his hand. "Here," he grits out, tossing it down the bed, suddenly bereft as Geno pulls out his fingers completely._ _

__"Okay?" Geno asks, the head of his cock slipping against Sid's hole._ _

__"Put your cock in me right now," Sid practically hisses._ _

__Geno groans and pushes in with a smooth, deep thrust. He's steadily giving Sid inch after inch, not stopping until his hips are flush with Sid's ass, and Sid finally feels _full_. It's maybe not as fast as Sid usually demands, but Geno is relentless, shifting his hips, adjusting Sid's hips until Sid lets out an embarrassing moan when Geno gets the angle just right. _ _

__He grins smugly and proceeds to _nail it_ , giving it to Sid so hard that Sid has to brace his hands against the headboard. Geno's hands are tight on Sid's hips and he doesn't know if he can last much longer, even as he's totally undone, begging Geno not to stop. _ _

__"Fuck, fuck, Geno, please," Sid sobs out, breath coming in hiccuping gasps._ _

__Geno is talking under his breath in Russian and while some of the words sound familiar, his tone is so unbearably filthy, filling in any meaning Sid might have lost. And it's pushing Sid even hotter, every phrase sounding like the second he's done with Sid, he's going to turn him over and fuck him again even harder._ _

__"You like? Good?" Geno asks, and from his expression he knows it, and just wants to hear Sid say it._ _

__"So -- so good," Sid says, voice catching as Geno rolls his hips into the next stroke. "I'm so -- I need to come, make me come, Geno."_ _

__Geno groans. "You want hand?" he suggests._ _

__"No, just, don't stop," Sid moans out, bracing hard with his left and reaching for his dick with his right, barely touching himself before he comes. It's messy and all over his stomach, and he feels unbelievable pleasure tingling though every single nerve ending in his body._ _

__"I -- you, _Sid_ ," Geno says heavily, hips still pumping into Sid, and it's overwhelming, too much, and Sid still doesn't want him to stop._ _

__Just before Sid would -- reluctantly -- really have to make him pull out, Geno bites out a string of what Sid knows for sure is profanity and comes hard. He slumps over Sid, pressing sloppy kisses to Sid's neck, nuzzling in._ _

__"So good, beautiful, amazing," Geno murmurs against Sid's collarbone._ _

__Sid sighs contentedly, limbs still sluggish and unresponsive, content to let Geno continue to have his way with him._ _

__"Sid," Geno purrs softly. "Kitchen. Need carbs."_ _

__"Shower," Sid counters, when he's not rendered speechless by Geno sucking a giant hickey under his jaw._ _

__"Shower with you," Geno allows grudgingly._ _

__"To get _clean_ ," Sid stresses. _ _

__"We do that too," Geno agrees._ _

____

***

They do manage to get clean, between idle, exploratory touching, the easy, soapy glide of their hands making everything seem dreamy and unreal. Sid doesn't know if he could ever get his fill of Geno touching him, the casual possessiveness of it, the way each touch feels _right_.

Sid's sweats are short on Geno, but they fit; after some lazy kissing in the doorway, they end up barefoot and slightly damp in the kitchen, a towel still draped around Geno's shoulders. 

"Pasta," Geno says, peering over Sid's shoulder into the open fridge, snagging a bowl of grapes. 

"Okay,” Sid says, feeling agreeable and eager to please. "Do you want sauce?" 

"What kind?" Geno asks before popping a grape into his mouth. 

"Mmm, I think there's some vodka sauce with chicken in it, from a night or two ago," Sid says, pushing containers around. 

"Vodka always good," Geno says, offering up a grape by tapping it against Sid's lips. 

The grape is tart and sweet in just the right balance, cold and crisp and Sid can't help but make a pleased little sound, just happy about everything at the moment. 

"Good," Geno croons. "More?" 

Sid shivers, thinking about how he'd just heard those words from Geno in a very different context. "Please," Sid says, opening his mouth expectantly. 

Geno gives him another, thumb lingering on his bottom lip. "Teasing me," he says, but with no real complaint. 

"Is it teasing when you know I'll give you whatever you want?" Sid asks, after he's swallowed, mostly serious. 

"Always," Geno says, wrapping an arm around Sid's waist. "It okay, I like." 

"If you don't let go, I can't cook," Sid reminds him. 

Geno nuzzles his face into Sid's throat, dropping sweet little open-mouthed kisses until Sid arches his neck to let Geno have complete access. "Tough choice," Geno murmurs against the skin over Sid's collar bone. 

"Geno," Sid says, sounding much less firm than he intended. 

"Yes, yes," Geno agrees, breaking off to feed Sid another grape. "You take such good care of us." 

Neither of them stray much further than arm's reach away from each other, which leads to bumping hips or kissing against the refrigerator while the sauce reheats on the stove. Sid ends up needing to re-microwave the noodles three times before they manage to break apart long enough to plate up servings. 

He and Geno have sat across from each other at Sid's breakfast table more times than Sid can count, but this is the first time that Geno's feet have tangled with his, tucking his bare toes behind Sid's ankle. It's lucky they're both familiar with the necessity of devouring unsightly amounts of food, because they tuck away over two generous servings apiece, post-game hunger compounded by post-coital hunger. 

But fed, his body has no more complaints, just pleasant exhaustion, and Sid can only think about bed. 

"Do you-" he starts, trying to figure what he really wants to ask. They said a lot earlier, but. "Will you stay?" 

Geno draws Sid's hand across the table to kiss the tips of his fingers. "If you like," he says. "Not want to wear out welcome." 

"Stay," Sid says firmly. "Stay with me." 

"Yes," Geno says, and it sounds like an assurance, not just an agreement. 

Plates in the sink, Sid is ushered upstairs, Geno's arm warm around his waist. They fit together perfectly under the sheets, Geno wrapped around him completely. It's even better than he had imagined, the weight of Geno's limbs comforting and reassuring. They trade drowsy kisses, Geno murmuring low, sweet sounding things in Russian. 

It feels quiet and safe and it makes Sid brave enough to say, "I -- I meant it earlier. I want _you_. Just you." 

Geno brushes Sid's hair back from his face, unbearably tender. "Can have me," Geno whispers back. "Whatever you want." 

"And you -- you have me," Sid says, needing Geno to know that he's just as committed. 

"All I need," Geno says, kissing Sid so sweetly, before leaning back and making a considering face. "Well, maybe also Cup. But we work on that." 

Sid busts out into a surprised giggle. "We can work on it," Sid agrees, perfectly content to have his forehead kissed and for Geno to tuck him close. 

_***_  


He must drift off, because he blinks awake slowly to find they've shifted in their sleep, Geno spooning him and Sid mostly resting against Geno's chest like he's a big, softly snoring pillow. 

Arms wrapped around Sid tight, Geno's knee is mostly draped over Sid's thigh, and as Sid stretches into a little yawn, Geno mutters and clutches him tighter. "Too early," Geno says into Sid's hair. 

"You don't have to get up," Sid says, voice morning scratchy. 

Geno's response is a slow grind of his hips into Sid's ass, his dick snug between Sid's cheeks. "Already up," Geno jokes, leaning down to nibble on Sid's ear. 

"Yes," Sid says, completely on board with the unspoken question there. 

"Easy, easy," Geno croons in his ear. "Have all day." Geno's hands are gentle and settle possessively low on Sid's hips, slipping under his sweats and stroking the skin. 

"Take my time today," Geno says, kissing Sid's jaw. "Going to be good for me?" 

Sid shivers. "Tell me," he sighs. "You said you'd tell me how to be good for you." 

Geno manhandles Sid until he’s on top. "I did," he agrees, expression thoughtful and scorching hot. 

"Please," Sid says, grinding down slow and dirty. He leans down to kiss Geno, who licks into Sid's mouth with a single minded focus that takes Sid from half to fully hard. 

"Already so good," Geno purrs, hands coming to curl around Sid's hipbones. "Just need patience." 

"I can be patient," Sid says, though he hardly ever tries to be. Usually, if he's hooking up, it's just that, a quick hookup. Even in longer things that sort of passed for relationships, Sid has never felt an ounce of the willingness he feels now, the desire he feels to give Geno exactly what he wants. 

So he lets Geno lay him out, strip him bare, and kiss him all over, long past his own patience until he's a trembling pile of nerves. 

"Geno," he whimpers out. "Can I -- can I ask you to-"

"Yes," Geno says, kissing Sid gently on the mouth. 

He opens Sid up so slowly, getting him just as slick as last night, with deliberate strokes against Sid's prostate that just keep him floating on a high edge of pleasure.

"Need condom," Geno says gently, like he hates to bring Sid back down to earth. 

Sid reaches for the bedside drawer, fishing around for a condom. "I know, but some time we shouldn't. I’ve never not used one, but I think, oh _fuck_ , I think I would want you to. I'm already so slick, but I thought about it you know, your come in me," Sid pants out. He wants Geno to make a mess of him.

Geno's hands still for just a second, and Sid glances up to see Geno's eyes shut tight, biting his lower lip. "Whenever you want," Geno says finally, and the sheer heat in his expression makes Sid feel a little dizzy. He puts on the condom, and Sid wonders if he doesn't need bigger condoms. The thought makes him squirm happily. 

"Still," Geno says, and Sid is reminded just how big Geno's hands are when he puts a hand low on Sid's stomach. 

Sid does his best to be calm, and Geno makes it easy on him, drawing him back into his arms, just like they woke up, dick sliding against Sid's lube-slick cheeks. Geno pushes Sid's leg over for better access, and he pushes in in a slow, deep thrust, getting Sid so perfectly. 

He doesn't pull out, just grinds his hips into Sid, rubbing the head of his dick against Sid's prostate. Sid can't help the sound he makes, a breathy moan pushed out of him. 

" _So_ good, just for me," Geno croons in Sid's ear. 

"Please, I -- Geno," Sid stammers out. 

Geno's hands are roaming over Sid's body, stroking his thumb along Sid's hip, playing with a nipple. "Hand?" Geno offers. "Or I just keep going?" He punctuates the question with more careful little rocking thrusts, still hitting Sid's prostate dead on, making Sid crazy. 

The soft _ah, ah, ah_ s that keep coming out of Sid's mouth seem to answer the question for Geno, and he sticks to the same agonizingly delicious friction, buried so deep in Sid.

It's hardly any stimulation, but it's enough to keep Sid clutching at Geno's hand on his hip, his other hand tangled up in the sheets. Geno puts out so much heat and they're so close that Sid feels like he's burning up, the shallow slide of Geno's hips against Sid's amplified by the slip of the sweat between them. 

His neck arches back, his spine bowing into the same endless tense pleasure building in his body, and Geno presses a slightly off-kilter to his cheek, just catching the corner of his mouth. Sid turns his face into it, suddenly needing Geno to kiss him, really kiss him, and Geno obliges. It's not the easiest position to hold, but it works, long enough for Geno to kiss him soundly, trailing off into gentle little presses of his lips against Sid's cheekbone and just above his jaw. 

"Sid," Geno says, and it sounds endlessly affectionate, like an endearment. 

Geno only gives him that much for seemingly forever, not enough and too much, until Sid really can't take another second, desperate for something, anything more. 

"I need you to -- you have to-" Sid begs. " _Please_ , Geno, please." 

"Yes, shh, I have you," Geno promises, taking Sid in hand, and it doesn't even take a minute, just a few strokes and then Sid's coming all over Geno's hand. 

All the tension evaporates out of Sid's body, leaving him liquid and totally boneless in Geno's arms. Geno works him through it, drawing out Sid's orgasm, and then just keeps going, fucking in with the same steady grind of his hips. The direct stimulation is overwhelming, and Sid sobs out harsh breaths into his pillow, shivering in Geno's arms. 

"Too much?" Geno asks, stilling for a moment. 

"N-no," Sid gasps out, trying to make it last as long as possible. He wants Geno to have whatever he wants, and if what he wants is to push Sid into shaky, oversensitive bliss, Sid is more than okay with that. 

Geno kisses Sid's neck, then rests his face there, breathing getting quick and uneven. His thrusts are a little sharper and a little less rhythmic, and Sid has to clutch harder at the sheets, eyes fluttering shut. 

"Sid, Sid," Geno groans, pressed in as deep as he can be, holding Sid against him tight. 

They stay like that, with Geno's arms wrapped around Sid possessively, his face nuzzled into the crook of Sid's neck, lazily kissing again and again. He's not sure how long they lay there, letting their breathing even out, but he can't get enough of the closeness, the still quiet of the morning making him feel totally insulated and safe. 

"Okay?" Geno asks, leaning up to kiss Sid's temple. "You liked?"

"Yes," Sid says, probably too forcefully, because Geno chuckles. Sid can feel it all along his back. 

Geno pulls out so slowly, but Sid still can't hold back a quiet sound of complaint. It's the furthest away from each other they've been all morning when Geno steps into the bathroom, coming back with a warm wash cloth. 

He cleans them both up, before tossing the cloth back toward the bathroom and pulling them under the blankets again. Geno curls right back around Sid, hooking his leg over Sid's hip. 

"Breakfast later?" Geno asks, yawning and kissing behind Sid's ear. "Sleep now." 

Sid giggles as Geno cuddles him somehow even closer, Geno's fingers brushing across his ribs. "Ticklish," Sid warns him. 

He can feel Geno's smile pressed into his neck. "Have to press harder then," Geno says, hands deliberately running over Sid's body. "Now that I have all of Sid to touch."

Sid smiles into his pillow. "Touch however you want, whenever you want."

Geno's hand comes to rest right over Sid's heart.


End file.
